Drawing and Poem: Trans formative Thought Man

Collapsing polarities keep reforming in the folds surrounding that event. Pounding in the brain, get the new thoughts down when they present. Perpetually caught in the moment just fading away. Staying fraught at the thought of staying slightly ahead , completely different then what was read last autumn. Still knowing that the summer is almost free, so say yes. Who will confess? No more obvious decrees revealing molded archetypes with thoughts ripe,  already before the person out of the inside understands. Eyelid twitches, remembering all the stitches sewn into the skin.

Explode onto the grass, spiders in-between the toes no one knows those peripheral notions waiting like potions inside your brain. Do not refrain there is no stain deep enough that it is not a layer of a prayer in a new way. Day to day through every night reveals no more moons as we drifted without a planet beneath us. But not us only me I realized after much too long. Maybe still some day a heart song. No more wrongs take me back to any place I could know. Only forward is every thing there is that I must go to. So many arms still waiting to receive my chest against them, my words exchanged between our brains, disdain waiting to be resolved inside each others hearts. Deliver unto us a rhythm of raucous laughter how many faces caught in a schism blend their tension like daggers barely piercing the heart. Every last minute of the new day falling away.

Drawing, "Transformative Thought Man" by Ed Tajchman © 2014.

Inter Woven Dreams and Visions

Going home alone again for the last time
Rowing ashore, given a fine line in kind.
Knowing this between here and what I will find.?
Mist rolls through all the hills I have seen in these summer days,
Fist unclenched, finding new thrills, finally felt the rays.
Every golden key, every week an age, a dream in a new sign.
Drawing down molten rhythms in sage and calling them mine.
every place I go I see love through fear in faces of no foes.
Turn around in your places reveal the shining in your toes we all know it bursts forth
through all of our eyeballs, we eat what we sow, through the eyes of the crow
we see what calls us now.

When it dances well it uses everyone around you.
Everything you learn is a mirror of your brother and sister's souls.
Our bodies your souls.
Every body is another piece of our puzzle.
raise the spirit seen in every mistake.
Envision a manifestation of a revelation of love every infinite moment.
Alone home in the cave again you find that sleep and reap the rewards of a life well lived.

Rabbit runs on the peripheral vision,
bird flies right beside you when you ride on the bicycle,
looking up and the sky moves forward.
The clouds surround a living warmth in the chest,
Lizards abound under porches and
not every wizard hidden inside a rock sees true.
Some time despite whine you know a gift far greater then you have given.

-Ed Tajchman

Mythic Imaginings

Walking up a staircase in the lair of a mad professor.
You see the hair of the woman in front of you, and you want to caress her.
Each and every step is a waking hour in another man's dream.
Day to day worries doing nothing for your own scheme.
Take into space every chance you get, clear the clutter.
I didn't stutter, I remember the old man's name it was Cutter.
The last chance to take her hand happens in autumn's coming.
When you hear that glassy eyed bard's guitar a strumming.
Head for the hills, say yes, do not distress believe, believe.
She has to be pure enough for you to project your own balance.
Come so far to be who you are do not give it away.
Add it to another's time and place for a time and see the joy.
Don't forget that own fire that own soul that own being eternal.

The House on 862 Mirror Street Speaks

Between the shadows cast from the ghosts of her eyes in my doorway,
And the sound of his worn-out shoes running all over the city to get back here.

A young man looks out of his bedroom window, into the gnarly haunted looking bushes.
Reminding him of how he felt inside, so twisted and broken but finally free in the night.

Awoken at long last, but finding himself in so many pieces; They started to, . . .
Fall into his stomach as the words from her lips, still in his mind; hit the ears.

Those will always be the ones that cut deepest, hit furthest, first.

Maybe always knowing it could be no other way, he fought against the tide.
It pulls you in and pushes you out, soon you look and shore is far away.

Stories of the way it could be should of ended long ago in his mind.
As the summer unwinds desperately trying ways to stop thinking.

Walking the streets, feet sinking ever further into the soul of his shoes.
Feel the beat of the street everyone downtown in the morning,

Holding their coffee like armor.

In the middle he kept shrinking, no riddle solved of his brain could help the cause.
No walk through any more city blocks would give his mind only the slightest pause.

Only praying to stop hearing the the sound of those words falling softly from her.
She was always a grey shade of pink, a soft shade of brown, and she left town.

The Form and the Formless Interwoven

Two birds bounced in the bushes while singing.
Undo the reasons it will not stop stinging.

Pining at a moon after smoldering sky with lightning.
Lining Silver in the reflection of the cocoon tightening.

All this time building and refusing to splurge
Walls closing in, and it's impossible to emerge

Constantly rambling barely murmuring, the middle of the inside is not all it is cracked up to be. Cracks in the cement, cracks in mounted skulls.  What it is to be true has changed. False bravado from antiquated notions disconnected my mind from a source. The map I should of had coming in, was clouded by guided misperceptions. Found that glowing effervescence again and begged to never lose that ringing inside, echos of universal love opening in my eye.

Corporeal memories wander empty mansions.
Seal the grinning fate of the future's phantoms.

Unbroken ground reserved for ambitious intentions.
Spoken truth is only a wish of oversold interventions.

Holes in the side of the ship are leaking water.
Rolls of stinging sweat in my eyes, it gets hotter.

Wandering as the black night consumes all light.
Squandering endless moments, which way looks right?

It goes and it stays away a while, sometimes. Thoughts grow dark despite the best intentions and most pure of routines. Take back the ocean inside the skull, don't lose a grip on believing in the work. Never lost faith in it, or, . . . never had a vision? A Cruel thing to say when you know it is not true, but equally cruel to wait with a begging open heart, arms shaking, exhausted from reaching. To see it and not bend completely to it's will leaves one still. Too pure carries you far outside the bounds of where you are now, too thin and I float away. Capture it in just the right way in quiet moments; and through mud and shit when you need to.

- Ed Tajchman

Neither Here Nor There

Am I the sky or a tree? 
Am I a bird or on my branches they be?

Can I fly or do I have earth binding roots? 
Am I free or part of the absolute?

-Ed Tajchman

Small Woven Moments

Left three of my own devices on the forgotten steps of a red-tiled and arched doorway. A few strands of her auburn hair hung over her eyebrow, she should remember to use all ideas from all moments. Seeking the shiners in every where. Whole world optional rolls from the breath of a clenched brow when the pharaoh hound returns the favor. The world and everything inside of it seen on the shelf yesterday. Every small moment glued to the walls carefully. Portals in a starship.

Bicycle racing the train with a crane in the sky. The sun sets orange and purple pouring out. Old man storing every detail of his face as he passes. Time drips like molasses and the wind cried as the dog sighed. Knees on the gravel as strangers travel into view as if on cue. Quickly slinking into the forest an imagined chorus hushed behind him.

Cartwheels rolling down the windowsill fill your eyes with every unknown insect on housebroken flowers. Hours spent climbing towers when the icy rays found their phase upon leather fingertips. Mind flips the switch when it is too much to take to stay awake, eyeballs stabbing. Spiderwebs stacked in the coroners office, emerald green lantern shining from a foreigner.

-Ed Tajchman

Frequently Strange Chronicle Part 11

Water-inhaling bobcats bring mutating mystery maintained masterfully through subtle manipulations. Mixed up coastlines cling, clasping desperately to any frivolous favorite phenomenon. Quickly coaxing candles to be more seconds slipping soundly through the ears endlessly enveloping the imaginations of many beings on borrowed time.

Splitting skull rascals dig deeper risking rather frothy renditions of lost songs. The ones where it mattered that time. Hallowed sky, no need to cry after it was split open. Tomb womb zoom and again. How many conversations in dreams were with other people asleep somewhere else? Feinting phantoms flipping while flabbergasted. Terrible, talking, terror reaching into tiny minds, twisting.

Murky depths messed up threats cannot detect a pulse anymore. Every day sinking further and farther away. Threw the hook to the top and hoped it would stay. Climb out, I cannot shout any louder, cannot silence the doubters. Dubious deliberations caught the slinking cat's attention. Claws clicking on the hardwood floors you can still feel the echo of the silence that dissolved into the marvelous mixed up mud.

-Ed Tajchman

Carving Destiny

In every shadow darkness waits and the fear is like a jail.

Inside his own shadow unafraid, when you tempted fate; almost got what you asked for.

Footsteps bled the seeds of growth, carefully carved into hillsides where none had been before.

The blood from the souls from so many toes, runs down into the river, forming portals.

Opening into everything, reaching for the feel of creating in the boundaries of other souls' experience.

The uniqueness of one voice can heal your tired feet, listening carefully for the sounds of footsteps.

Ruthless abandon still remains within my being of desire.

Hind sight means as much as a dogs tooth.

-Ed Tajchman

More and Less of the Same Time

The person he used to be never seems to go away despite all the differences he knows. Finds the signs of him everywhere he remembers.

Shedding new skins reveals glimmer of the old ones. So much stronger now and so much weaker, both can be true know where mysteries yet to be perceived, held the innocence coiled before.

Begging for movement a sign of growth. Balancing integration, unbending truth given reign; synergy collapses. Broken down, reappeared, lost again, thought to be found but disillusion is conceiving. Too fast cycling through, spinning, jumping, dodging, begging then abandoning all, but my own will.

Warmly embraced spinning in space we really are. Don't let cultural illusions plague your brain. know the truth of the living starlight inside each of our souls. Molecules ancient are me and you and everything over and over again through stories ending and beginning in all people, all animals, in the leaves of all skies inside all spaces. All waters know the feel of your feet bottoms on the rocks where you became one. The rock outside of myself is who I was.

 Living everything.


-Ed Tajchman

Push Through

Pushing on through

This endless entangling path.

Don't have a clue

The source of its wrath.


See into the colors, calling true forms,

Ancient future moment visions.

Felt coming through in storms,

Space and time feel the collisions.


Each moment becomes all the unremembered dreams,

Every body knowing each other well.

Me or you, here and there, apart at the seams.

I tried to rise up stronger each time I fell.

-Ed Tajchman

Imagined Fate

The fantastic approaches never cease in wonder.
So much time preparing, and from the start all? asunder.

Have you seeen through all the disguises, stains and rips?
Fears and dreams so loosely given from the lips.

Poor and broken laying on the cement floor,
When it all gets loose, try to hang onto the door.

In frozen midnight the spine quakes in fear.
Sometimes in dreams her shadows you'll hear.

Unusually warm starlight four eyes saw.
Connection or void, empty and raw?

Muse disguised in her precious words came late.
It was a mountaintop singing, this imagined fate.

A sign of a lingering state, no more expectations.
One amongst many mounting realizations.

It was not her that caused the heights singing
It was your own wings through the valley ringing.

Do not give too much praise in haste.
Some people would rather save face,

Then be honest open and giving,
About how their emotions affect their living.

Waves of Emotions the size of oceans can fill the ribcage.
Trying not to feel so deeply or so afraid.




-Ed Tajchman

Only December

Witness the way in time you see thoughts slow
Not only in your own mind but in others grow

A lightness of being pursued in body and head
Corporeal appetites in seasons timely fed

A long time Learning to speak slowly and loud.
Under the bending wooden arches standing proud.

Knowing again with ice descending,
Forever more no need for pretending.

Carry it forward as the snow melts.
Remember again how all these moments felt.

Sometimes you can only hear the truth speak in silence
Its also heard crying in the night amidst violence.

When it becomes hard to breath remember
There is two more months of winter it's only December.

-Ed Tajchman

Superstitious Apparition

How many words of others fall through the teeth in that mouth?
The last breath of the weariest travelers long ago went south.

Throat dry cracked and bleeding,
Moments of doubt in the brain seeding.

Still on the tip of the tongue don't let it slip,
The beast's eye knows to shoot straight from the hip

Disappear and show the non-believers,
An ephemeral yet corporeal breath on the necks of the deceivers.

-Ed Tajchman

Time Spent Waiting

Time spent waiting, . . .

   - Against city walls with neck strained looking straight upwards dizzyingly at an impossibly tall glass structure reaching high into the endless blue.

  - For the night to pass with all of it's fears and loneliness that stick to my mind like glue.

  - By the phone in youth waiting for anyone to call.

  - Imagining how you would feel during the fall.

  - During sleep in dreams, always in some grand Hall.

  - For the mind to accapt what the heart has already learned.

  - To know enough ways of the world for the heart to discern.

Time spent waiting when the night passes in silence reveals a slipstream.

Ride it carefully out of your mind and into your dream.



-Ed Tajchman

Moonlight Caressing a Beast's Tooth

Moonlight talking inside my head while watching fields of wheat fly.
A movement of mind from another time I could hear sigh.

What to do with your cap to your head when you're walking?
just keep it on top, keep on going and continue talking.

Sometimes I try so hard not to die I forget to live,
Quiet moments found in the discreet perfection of lines,

Universal understanding in a real new way all the time.
the rain flowed deep into the valley it felt like a sign.

Create in your mind the beam of light we ride
paths across my heart sink like ice as I glide

Being honest and expressive in a real way every day.
makes it harder to stop feeling everything so deeply.

Back on a path I've forged,
on the future I gorge.

The animal within drinks tea quietly waiting.
In the night you see him pacing the cage debating.

The softest fingers from the most delicate hand
caresses his fangs from where she chooses to stand.

Moonlight speaking inside my soul as morning ascends.
There is a pride, a love, in my soul on which I must depend.

-Ed Tajchman

Not to Get Back, But to Be Free

Giving so much the tree grew thinner.
Careful now they still might call you a sinner.

There the whole time providing shade.
Ended up trampled in the parade.

Set the tone, now so unknown.
The tree taught things so well others took it for their own.

Now cold, empty, alone, the tree gave away all its guts.
Then those around it said man, that tree must be nuts.

They forgot about the shade.
How quickly their memories fade.

What no one knows is that this tree had wings.
And ability to express perfectly in wonder rings.

He spread his feathers wide.
Prepared for an amazing ride.

By himself in the sky, transformed after so long.
Maybe then they'll see how they were wrong.

But the tree flying high, now a bird in the sky.
Flies away from dream to dream, by and by.

Wondered why he struggled so long in giving,
To those who never returned his thoughts on living.

-Ed Tajchman